Lying In Wait
by MissAlternateUniverse
Summary: When Edmund is captured by Miraz all he can do is wait until help arrives from his family. After all, they can survive a few days without him can't they? It seems he was wrong, and when his own brother releases Narnia's deadliest enemy he soon finds himself in a situation he'd rather not be in, and it my just be time for him to face his own nightmares... AU set during PC
1. The Raid

**A/N: Hi FanFiction Readers! This is my first ever "What If?" fanfic, which I thought of the first time I watched Prince Caspian. This is for those few people who saw the scene in the film where Ed nearly gets shot by arrows and it cuts off, and thought "OMG what if Ed got's captured?!" then this is for you. :) I'm afraid some people may be OOC and there will be some Peter and Caspian bashing (because they were such jerks to each other in the movie!) but apart from that I hope you enjoy this chapter! I plan on extending this into a story, but only if I get enough interest and reviews, so please R&R!**

Disclaimer: I don't own Disney, Walden Media or anything to do with the film, and I don't own the books either. I don't make money out of this and I don't plan to. End of story.

* * *

"Ed!"

Edmund Pevensie snapped out of his momentary daze as he turned sharply to find a row of Telmarine archers, and they were aiming for him. He reacted quickly; he ran into the tower and ducked and fell as he heard the arrows fly past his head. He recovered from the fall and managed to kick the door shut with his foot, before breathing a loud sigh of relief. That had been almost too close for comfort: he had seen the soldier aiming for his brother as he had been watching from the rooftops, and without thinking he had dive-bombed him from the back. It had been a miracle that he had actually been able to escape. He was about to get up when out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow engulf the floor.

"I wouldn't be lying down there if I was you"

Edmund lunged for his sword, which had scattered a few feet away from him, but a large steel capped boot shoved it aside. He found himself being pulled to his feet by two burly looking guards, both carrying weapons. He tried to struggle, but the elder of the two punched him, and he tried not to gasp as a rush of pain began to throb throughout his body. He instead let himself go limp in his captor's grip, staring vehemently at them as they began to drag him into the tower.

Edmund noticed as they led him further in that he had unknowingly broke into one of the many armouries that he remembered Caspian telling them about. It had surprised both him and Peter at first that Miraz had so much military power at his disposal, as when they had been Kings of Narnia themselves they had only had a small number of soldiers, and even then they hadn't been needed that often. Perhaps that was one of the reasons that Peter had decided to lead this raid in the first place, thinking that all of Miraz's army would still be trying to cross the ford at Beruna, but he had been wrong. There was definitely a good number of men in the citadel; all Edmund could do now was pray that he had done enough already to ensure that Peter could escape safely, for he loved his brother and wouldn't forgive himself if any harm came to him.

The two soldiers suddenly stopped and roughly pushed Edmund downwards, shoving both their left boots onto his arms and effectively pinning him down onto the cold, hard floor. He cried out in pain as he felt one of his bones snap under the weight of the bigger soldier, and they laughed as he tried to wriggle and thrash out with his other available limbs in order to escape from their grip.

"What shall we do with you eh, Spider?" one of the men gloated as he grabbed his legs and held them down, "You and your scum would kill us if it were the other way round, wouldn't you?"

"We can't kill him," the other guard interrupted, "I know Miraz gave orders to take no prisoners, but this boy is obviously not an Old Narnian, nor is he of Telmarine descent. I suspect he may be one of Caspian's leaders or something."

The two soldiers both turned their attention back to a squirming Edmund, who had been listening intently to their conversation. He knew that if they captured him and he told them who he was, Miraz would most likely use the dark haired youth against his brother, leading to the imminent downfall of their army. So when the two guards said this he decided to risk his own life, knowing that if they thought he was worthless to their king they would kill him. He spoke up.

"I'm not a Narnian leader. My name is Caleb, and I come from Archenland, from over the border. It's true that I heard about the Old Narnians and decided to join them, but I'm just a common soldier"

The two guards looked at him, confused. "How come you decided to join? Archenland hasn't been involved in Narnia's business for years." Before Edmund could answer the other guard muttered, "If Archenland is involved then the King must know. We'll take this boy to the dungeons, and alert his Majesty after this attack is over."

Edmund gasped in relief as he felt his injured arm being released, but before he could do anything he was pulled to his feet and marched forward. He heard the noise of a sword being unsheathed and a blade was pressed to his back. "Move scum or you'll never see daylight again."

The dark haired boy had no choice but to walk forwards into the castle, his captors following behind him. He heard from far away his brother's voice yelling to call off the attack, and hoped that everyone had a chance to get away. All he could do now though was lie in wait and hope for rescue, although from the state of the army as he last saw it that was looking very unlikely indeed. He would just have to try and keep up with the pretence.

Lucy Pevensie stood frozen outside the How, looking upon the remains of Caspian's army in horror. There was barely half the amount that she had witnessed leaving their headquarters this morning, and many of them looked bedraggled and despairing, sporting numerous wounds. She saw Peter and Caspian approach and ran out to meet them, before stopping as she saw the cold, angry look that was plastered over their faces.

"What happened?"

Peter looked at her as he heard her voice and answered briefly, "Ask him."

"Peter!" Susan, who had been following close behind, warned her brother but the damage had already been done. Caspian turned to face the High King, blood boiling to his cheeks.

"Me? You were the one who could've called it off, there was still time…"

"No there wasn't thanks to you. If you had stuck to the plan, those soldiers might still be alive right now."

"And if you had stayed here like I suggested they definitely would be!"

"You called us remember?"

"My first mistake."

Lucy could see the anger and frustration in Caspian's eyes as he said this, and realised what had truly happened between them. The trust between the two kings had practically broken, just like she thought it would…if only Peter had listened to her at the council! He was just too used to being the one everybody listened to, and it had just cost a lot of Narnians their lives.

Her brother stalled for a moment, then retorted back to the unfortunate prince, "No, your first mistake was thinking you could lead these people."

"Hey!" Lucy saw Peter swerve round in shock, surprised at the sudden rush of anger coming from the usually calm and laidback prince as he spat, "I am not the one who abandoned Narnia."

"You invaded Narnia. You have no more right to lead it than Miraz does!" Lucy could hear the malevolent hiss in her brother's voice as Caspian pushed him aside, heading back to the How. She prayed to Aslan that in this situation Peter would keep his head straight, but her heart sank as she realised that this was one fight he wasn't going to back out on.

"You, him, your father! Narnia's better off without the lot of you!"

Lucy winced; she knew that Peter had chosen to hit a soft spot in Caspian's heart, and that those words were meant to hurt. Something seemed to snap inside of the Telmarine and he lunged back at Peter, unsheathing his sword and raising it threateningly above the boy's own.

"Stop it!"

The two of them turned to see Susan Pevensie glaring at them. She walked over and shoved her brother aside, scowling at him. "That's for starting another bloody fight! You know that this is as much your fault as it is Caspian's! You're just too proud to admit it!" she yelled fervently at him, before turning on the bemused Caspian. "And as for you…!" she slapped him across the face, creating a loud gasp from the watching army, "You know I really thought that for once I'd actually met a decent guy. Guess I was wrong." She stalked over to Lucy, taking her hand and leading her back in the direction of the How.

"Susan, wait!" Peter saw Caspian leave after them and was just about to run after him to apologise for turning on him when he heard a loud caw come from behind, which he then noticed had stopped Lucy in her tracks. He turned to see one of the Gryphons flying at a fast pace towards them, landing with a large boom and dislodging most of the grassland in the process. The three Pevensies ran torwards him, not noticing Prince Caspian stop and creep slowly back into the How alone.

As they approached the Gryphon they could now see that it was carrying in its talons a wounded and bloody figure, which was deposited on the grass at their feet. Lucy gasped as she said, "It's Trumpkin!" before rushing to his aid, reaching into her belt for her cordial. Whilst she was doing this, the Gryphon managed to get back onto its feet and spoke quietly, "Your Majesties. King Edmund has been captured."

"Captured?" Peter's question came out as a whimper as he sank down onto the ground, his mind drowning in worry. What on earth had he done? He looked up and saw Susan's face for the first time. She looked like she was about to cry.

"Peter this is your entire fault!"

He turned to see that Lucy had burst into tears and was now yelling wildly at him, all her thoughts finally being heard, "I told you to wait for Aslan but you didn't listen, because you never listen!"

"The Queen's right." Trumpkin sat up and Peter swore he saw a flash of relief cross his sister's face as she embraced the dwarf, almost suffocating him with her hugs. When she let go he smiled, and he said to the group, "There's no doubt about it, we're in a pretty big mess now and so far you haven't exactly helped it. What I suggest is that you (he pointed to Peter) and Caspian settle your differences, and then maybe this time we can actually come up with a decent plan to rescue your brother."

Peter listened intently to the dwarf, all the while nodding as he spoke. When he finished speaking he got up, and it was then that they first noticed that the prince himself was missing.

"God, where's he gone now?" Peter moaned, only to be hit by a cacophony of glares coming from both his sisters and Trumpkin. He sighed, and began to run back, Lucy soon following behind him and Susan watching them as they did so. As soon as they were out of ear length she turned back to the Gryphon and commanded, "Go back to the citadel. Scout around as much as you can and try to find out news about my brother." The bird nodded and took flight, whipping the Gentle Queen's hair into her eyes as he soared back into the sky.

She turned and saw that the dwarf had now managed to stand up, and was about to try and go back to the How. She caught his wrist. "Trumpkin, where do you think you're going?"

"I have to follow them. I've got a feeling that Caspian's about to do something very stupid." He said to her as he freed himself from her grasp and bolted, leaving Susan with no choice but to follow him.


	2. Who Is That Boy?

**A/N: Hello again Readers! I'm sorry if this chapter is a little bit boring :'( but it's very important that it gets in before any actual action or drama starts (I know...try not to get too excited!). This chapter is mostly based around Edmund and Miraz, so sorry those of you who wanted the other Pevensies as well, but they will be back in the next chapter. Anyways, R&R and enjoy as usual!**

Disclaimer: I don't make any money whatsoever out of writing this, because if I did I would probably be spending my time writing actual books instead of fanfiction. That kinda makes more sense.

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Alone at last. Brilliant.

Miraz sat alone in what was now his own throne room, where he could now finally grin to himself at the thought that he had been made King. It had been an almost equal vote by the council to grant the Chancellor permission to rule: in fact, even after the raid led by his nephew Prince Caspian he still had to convince a few of them with bribes and temptations beyond their wildest dreams just to get the total over half the Telmarine government. However, it had been worth it; after years of waiting for his chance to snatch the throne from his useless brother, he had managed it, and now the whole of Narnia was under his rule. All he had to do was to stamp out his one last threat, but that was merely in the form of Caspian and his Old Narnians. Judging from their performance last night they were of no importance to him, and they could be easily crushed.

"Your Majesty?"

The bearded usurper looked sharply forwards from his chair as the doors burst open to reveal two common soldiers; most likely some of Sopespian's lot as told by their cheap armour and rugged bodies. They clumped quickly towards him, but soon stopped a few metres away from the King as they saw the obvious displeasure at their interruption of his privacy etched across his face. They dropped down and kneeled before him in respect.

"Our dearest King," they said in unison, "We have, for the sake and safety of the kingdom, captured and restrained in your Majesty's dungeons one that fought on Caspian's side in the raid last night."

They watched intently as Miraz let this information sink in, and then froze in terror when he gave them a cold stare and hissed, "I thought I gave strict orders to take no prisoners!"

"But, your Highness…" The elder of the two men spoke up, now fearing that their smart idea to impress the new royalty was about to cost them their lives, "He is not an Old Narnian himself. He says he goes by the name of Caleb, and was born and raised in nearby Archenland. We merely thought that your grace would be deeply concerned by this situation…"

Miraz stood up and walked over to the soldiers, noticing how the sweat rolled off their foreheads in fear as he regarded them with a malicious glare. It almost gave him a thrill to see how scared they were; it was clear to everybody that he was the one in charge now, and not a soul doubted it. He smiled at them and interrupted their nervous speech, with hard realisation dripping with sarcasm.

"Tell me, how do you think this boy managed to cross the border and enter Narnia when there has been a large wall and fortress guarding it all round ever since Caspian the First's reign?"

The soldier who had been speaking gasped in horror as if he had been slapped in the face. His younger friend was beginning to whimper loudly. "My King, please forgive us, we did not realise…"

The King reached for his sword, which lay loosely at his side, but stopped suddenly: did he really need to kill them? Firstly, and this was most important to him, butchering two soldiers who didn't even belong to his own army in the middle of the council hall was definitely a bad move, and one that would most likely get him overthrown in less than a week. He couldn't risk that. Secondly, a voice that until then had been hiding in the shallow depths of the usurper's mind emerged, telling him that this mysterious boy was not what he seemed, and that if he felt the need to lie about who he was then he must be someone very important indeed…

"You." He unsheathed his sword, pointing it right between the eyes of the soldier in front of him, "Was the boy you caught Prince Caspian, by any chance? His friend let out a repressed giggle, but was quickly silenced as the blade turned sharply in his direction, the smirk wiped completely off his face. The other soldier began to speak.

"My Lord…both us humble and loyal soldiers have seen your worship's nephew countless times, such as many who live here in the citadel. I can assure you, the boy residing in your dungeons looks nothing like him."

"Then what does he look like?"

"Like nobody I've ever seen. He is neither tanned, like a Telmarine, nor dark skinned like a Calormen. In fact his skin is deathly pale: so much so that I swore he was the living dead when I first saw him. If that wasn't strange enough the rest of his features seemed to contrast strongly to his white pallor, as he own a pair of the darkest eyes I have ever seen and his hair is as black as night. He scared me to death; I almost mistook him for a ghost."

As he said the word "ghost" something triggered in the murky depths of Miraz's head. There was a stray thought that longed to get out, but the King couldn't quite put his finger on it. Ghosts… He realised that he remembered the tales he had heard about ghosts haunting the forest that surrounded Aslan's how. Ghosts of the Narnian's past, ones who could be summoned back again by the Horn, and the same ghosts that he had only recently discovered in a textbook hidden in Dr Cornelius's office behind a pile of ancient scrolls. The realisation hit him like a brick wall as he joined the dots.

"Bring him to me," he whispered hoarsely, "Now."

* * *

Edmund Pevensie tried once again to pull at the chains that fastened him to the wall of his cell, but the pain from his broken right arm and the pressure that came from tugging at the solid rock was too much for him to bear. He sank back down onto the straw covered floor, his shackles digging deep into his wrists, and he gazed blankly beyond the bars. The only scenery was a long winding staircase which climbed back up to the top of the tower. He gave out a quiet but mournful sigh. Many people would have broken down by this point and started crying or panicking, but the Just King sat calmly against the wall of the dungeon like he was lying on a grassy hill on a hot summer's day.

Of course, he had been in situations like this before. When he was King of Narnia back in the Golden Age, he and Peter had often managed to get themselves arrested by vicious or overly religious Calormenes, or perhaps even been betrayed by people they trusted and locked up in order to gain some sort of a large ransom. The only difference this time was that Peter wasn't here with him and although he didn't show it, that frightened him a little. He had never realised until now how it was always nice to have his brother comfort him at times like this, when he got hurt or tortured to the point of death. This, however…it was like being with the White Witch all over again, spending his time thinking that his siblings didn't care for him, because if they did then surely they would have tried to rescue him by now…

He quickly awoke from his melancholy musings as he noticed a shadow fall against the dim light of the hallway, and he stiffened as he saw the two guards who had roughed him up on his journey here approach his cell, gloating at him, as they unlocked the door to his cell.

"Well, well, well, looks like the King wants to meet you after all, my little Archenlandish friend."

"So be it." The dark haired youth scowled as the soldiers released him from his metal cuffs, letting him breathe a sigh of relief as he was finally able to gain some of the feeling back that he had lost from his hands. His happiness didn't last long though, as he found himself pulled to his feet. The two soldiers grabbed his arms and tied his wrists behind his back, ignoring the shouts of protest as Edmund felt his already shattered bone push against his skin. The elder then lead on out of the cell, his friend grabbing Edmund by his left arm and pulling him along with them as they left the dungeon and began the long walk up the stairs and through many narrow and dingy corridors afterwards.

For the first time, Edmund began to worry about how to keep up his story about being from Archenland. He tried to recall the distinct accent that he remembered the Dukes and Duchesses used to use when they came to court his siblings at Cair Paravel; it was a strong and sharp language, filled with a lot of rolling l's and r's in peculiar places. He hadn't bothered to try and use it with the soldiers when they first caught him, but Miraz would probably know a lot more about foreigners than his guards, and so he had to pull out all the stops in order to fool the usurper. It was a good thing that he was good at lying to people, something he had definitely practiced a lot when he was younger.

Eventually, after what seemed like a very complex labyrinth of passageways and dimly lit rooms, the soldiers forced the Just King up a long flight of stairs until they arrived at a large door, decorated ornately with green metals and emeralds that must have once sparkled with colour, but were now coated in dust and grime, making Edmund wonder how long it had been since the room had been properly used. The elder soldier pushed it open with one large heave and the dark haired adolescent composed himself as he looked into Miraz's throne room for the first time.

There were long rows of ornate seating all the way down the great hall, which Edmund assumed were used for council meetings, and he could also see right at the back the huge throne that he knew was Caspian's. However, the main thing that caught his attention was Miraz himself, who was standing in the middle of the room and staring at the prisoner, crazy eyed and staring hungrily like Edmund was a piece of meat. A large bullwhip hung lightly in the grip of his left hand.

The Just King's terror grew as he saw the torture weapon lying in his enemy's palms, but he camouflaged it by faking a mocking kind of smirk. He had dealt with this sort of thing before, and even with the threat of Miraz whipping him for possible information on Archenland (where he supposedly came from) at least a common soldier like Caleb wouldn't be asked to reveal any battle plans, and his family would stay safe.

As if he could read the young man's mind, Miraz mirrored his overzealous grin.

"Hello, King Edmund."

The boy's smile faltered as he heard the doors slam shut behind him.


	3. Searching For Caspian

**A/N: Hi Readers! I've finally managed to update, so sorry for the wait! This is a lot of the rest of the Pevensie siblings in this chapter, and a new character who will be introduced further towards the end... I'm sorry that there is no Edmund drama in this chapter, but there will be plenty in the next one. I know that most people (myself included) are going to think this chapter is really boring, but trust me, it's important that I get it in. So enjoy, and R&R if you can! :)**

Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia books. If you think I do, then that means I am apparently a man who has been dead for a good number of years. That's really likely.

* * *

Peter panted heavily as he ran through the complex and dusty maze that was the interior of Aslan's How, his eyes darting into every twist and turn he could reach. Where was he? He looked as carefully as he could but to his annoyance there was no sign of the long haired Telmarine. How Prince Caspian had managed to sneak away from them the High King didn't know, but all he knew was that it wasn't exactly to go chasing fairies.

He knew that something bad was about to happen; the eldest Pevensie child could feel random blots of fear rising inside his conscience as his body shook with panic. Where the hell had that idiot got to? It was bad enough that Edmund was missing; he didn't need Caspian to disappear on him too…

He turned a corner and realised at that moment that he had been running around in circles. He had rushed right back to where he had started his search: the main armoury, where countless dwarves and other Old Narnians were busy melting metal, the loud clang of the steel against the mallet was usually as peaceful as a lullaby to him, but now all it was doing was stressing him out even more as his eyes once again scanned the room recklessly.

"Peter!"

He turned to see Lucy, who had been trying to catch up after him all this time. She bent over and sighed in exhaustion. "Have you found him yet?"

Her elder brother shook his head. "You know how big this place is, Lu. He could be anywhere."

"He can't have gone far…" She straightened up again and smiled breathlessly at him.

Her grin faded and her soft blue eyes growing alarmingly wide as she stared at the space behind her brother; he turned to follow her gaze and saw that a large blue glow had burst from the end of a long tunnel in front of them and as they watched it began to grow brighter, dancing across the patterned walls. Peter knew now that that was the passageway that the Prince had shown them the day they arrived here, the long tunnel that led to the Stone Table. But this wasn't Aslan's magic. If anything it was a lot colder than that; he could see now that clouds of breath erupted from his sister's face, and he felt the blood slowly freeze in his veins. He shivered slightly. It was dark magic indeed, and yet horribly familiar.

It was only a few seconds before he bolted forward into the dark tunnel, ignoring the surprised calls from his sister as she unwillingly joined him in his mission, which he knew now had become increasingly dangerous.

"No, this isn't what I wanted…"

He stalled a little as he heard Caspian's frightened voice echo into the tunnel; Peter had never realised how brave and confident the Prince usually was until now. He sounded different; restrained, like he was tied down or at least outnumbered, and the High King could sense the weakness in his voice. It somehow reminded him of his younger brother being bullied by the kids from their boarding school, and it pushed him on, making him realise that although part of him didn't want to believe it, he actually really liked for the Prince, and somehow he didn't want him to die, because he still hadn't managed to apologise to him yet…

The two royals swerved round the last corner, and for the first time Peter could see the Stone Table.

His heart skipped a beat. It was _her._

She was encased in a thick wall of ice, her hair floating as if she was in a tank full of water. Her skin was that same sickly white, her dress flaked like snow. She looked exactly as she had done the day that Aslan killed her, except in her current form she seemed, if he even dared to admit it to himself, more powerful and deadly than he had ever seen her before. Her lips seemed a lot darker, contrasting greatly with her pale face, and her eyes were bloodshot. Her new look reminded him of a creature he had once read about in one of Edmund's fantasy novels back home in England, although for the love of Aslan he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was called…

It was then that he stopped staring at the Witch for a moment and noticed the other Narnians by the table; a wizened Northern hag, a hooded figure, that Black Dwarf Nikabrik…and Caspian the Tenth, standing frozen in time, his arms helplessly outstretched towards the evil Queen of Narnia…

**"Stop!"**

Peter could hold it in no longer and sprinted forward towards the table, his sword Rhindon drawn from its sheath. He had only managed to gain a few yards closer to the Table when the hooded figure savagely ripped off his coverings and lunged upon the High King, tearing the fabric from his back. As the beast landed beside him he turned sharply and stabbed it in the chest, its pitiful howl bouncing off the walls as the dead body of what was obviously a Werewolf slipped with ease off the boy's sword. He could see out of the corner of his eye that his sister had armed herself and was now fighting the traitorous Dwarf, which he knew left him with the Hag.

As this thought crossed his mind the old crone herself rushed from behind him, wielding her badly made sword and screeching through her vulture like beak. Peter smashed his blade against hers; a big mistake as he felt her twist his wrist and hit it sharply against a boulder. His sword fell from his hands, and he scowled; Hags were really some of the foulest of the Witches loyal followers. They were often skilled fighters, but practised in the magical arts as well. None of them had ever forgiven the Pevensie children for "usurping" their Queen: the High King knew very well that it had been Hags who were behind most of the uprising in the first few months of their Golden Age. So he wasn't that surprised that one of their kind, 1300 years later, was still trying to bring her back. Well, he would make sure that she wouldn't succeed.

He forcefully shoved her into a rock, knocking her out instantly. The sheer force that it had taken to knock her down made him fall to the floor, and as he clambered back up he gasped in fear as he saw that Caspian was still standing in front of the Witch, his eyes glazed over like he was in a trance. He saw the Witch reach out for the Prince's hand, which was moist and sticky with red blood.

With an impulse born of madness and fear, he ran forward and shoved the Telmarine out of the way, pointing his own sword into her ice cold face. She froze, and her arm retreated back into the icy prison.

"Get away from him!"

Peter didn't notice that he was now standing in the middle of the enchanted circle, and so the Witch focused her spells on the unfortunate boy. She smiled at him.

"Peter dear, I've missed you."

"Missed me?" The magic rooted itself deep into his soul as he became lost in his trail of thought. No one had missed him since he got back here the first place. Ever since they arrived, it had always been the same: a bunch of depressed malcontents complaining about how they had been abandoned by their Kings and Queens, how they weren't as great as they were supposed to be, how they never lived up to any expectations… Aslan hadn't even bothered to show his face. Yet here was the greatest evil in all of Narnia telling him how much she missed him.

"C'mon now, just one drop." She extended her hand towards him, causing the boy to flinch slightly and back off, sword still raised, "You know you can't do this alone."

As hard as he tried to shake off the enchantment, Peter gave in and let his free will leave him. She was right: he had been completely useless ever since he had come here. Hell, he practically killed half the army, for God's sake! His only confident at times like this was his brother, once the wisest in all of the land, but even he was out of reach now, and it was his entire fault…

The High King lowered his sword, and it fell from his clammy hands with a clang onto the stone floor.

"Peter?"

Susan Pevensie saw her brother standing in front of the ghastly spectre as she finally ran in, Trumpkin getting there only a few seconds earlier but being delayed by a vicious Nikabrik as he stabbed him, after the Black Dwarf raised his own dagger in a bid to kill a defenceless Lucy. The youngest Pevensie now lay on the ground and regarded her elder sister with worry as Susan began to yell frantically, "What are you doing? Stop!"

She was too late. Peter had taken a small dagger, and had made a thick cut down the palm of his hand, the blood beginning to clot in lumps and splattering onto the floor. Before anyone could stop him, he reached out and stained Jadis' pale fingers.

There was a ferocious smash as the ice wall broke, causing the semi-conscious Caspian to awaken and quickly hold his hands over his eyes. The rushing inferno of swirling snow seemed to last for an eternity, but when the shards finally cleared to their horror they saw the White Witch, breathing heavily but very much alive, and Peter laying asleep in her arms. She took one look at the Queens, and gave them a malicious smile.

"Time for my revenge" she hissed, and with a burst of magic she and the High King vanished.


End file.
